About Letter 144

War news from the Pacific is good. MacArthur has "returned" to the Philippines and the Allies have defeated the Japanese in a series of major naval battles at Leyte Gulf. Bill is hoping for Dewey to defeat Roosevelt in the upcoming election and laments that he can't get more election news. Tonight he has a "night problem."

Letter 144- October 27, 1944

October 27, 1944
(England)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

The army is sure doing it’s damndest to try and keep me from doing my letter writing. Tonight we’ve got a night problem. You know—going out into black night and fogging around with a compass. If I don’t fall in a hole somewhere and break my leg, I’ll be doing okay.

Well, it won’t be long ‘til the holiday season. I know, Thanksgiving is still some time away, but we’re beginning to think about getting cards and so forth. All of which makes the poor mistreated soldier more homesick than ever—if that is possible.

It’ll be just about election time when you get this, from what the papers say Dewey is making some pretty strong speeches. I hope they make some effect. There’s not much known over here, but it seems to be thought that Roosevelt will win by a very narrow margin. I wish that I were closer and knew a little more of what is going on.

Well, (too many wells around here) I seems we’ve won a great battle in the Philippines. Even the British papers give it top billing. They say that it will shorten the Pacific war considerably. I hope so. Maybe then I could get home before I have a gray beard draggin’ on the floor.

I sure hope those packages come soon. I’m getting hungry for some good food and stuff.

We’re going to have to fall out in a few minutes so I’ll close now.

Bestus Love,
Bill

About Letter 143

Bill is planning to see an on post exhibit of a captured German 88 mm gun, considered to be Germany's most deadly weapon. He also plans to go to the cinema with Fred Roberts. It's foggy but Bill says "that's better'n rain."

Letter 143-October 26, 1944

October 26,

1944

(England)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

Haven’t received any mail from you for several days. I’ll probably get a whole lot of it at once again. I don’t like it but that’s the way it goes. This won’t be the long letter I promised last night but it’s this way. Fred Roberts is here and wants me to go over to the cinema with him. Also I want to see an exhibition of captured enemy equipment that they have on the post. I especially want to see the German 88 mm gun, which we consider Germany’s most deadly weapon.

The rain hasn’t been so bad of late. There’s a “hellova” lot of fog but that’s better’n rain. It’s still no good, however.

Well, Fred is here and he’s a pesting me to hurry so I’ll have to quit. This is no letter but you said to write even if only a word or two.

Best Love,
Bill

About Letter 142

The army is conducting a periodic "E.T.O. Roundup"-the picking up of AWOL soldiers, so Bill is on restriction. He says there is a terrific air of expectancy. "Everyone feels it but no one knows what it is."

Letter 142- October 25, 1944

October 25, 1944
(England)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

Well, here I am again. Wot a pest, huh? I’m now going to attempt to write a letter despite a rather noisy poker game being fought out right next to me. If you suddenly find a full house or two in this letter, you’ll know I got a little “confoozed”.

Life is just as boring as ever around here and to make things worse we’re restricted due to the periodical “E.T.O. Roundups”—picking up AWOL’s. so, “as fer usual” there’s not much to write about. Some fellows can think up the most interesting pack of lies to put in their letters but I just can’t do it. T’aint right.

I just went up for a shower and is that an ordeal? Definitely. The night air is cold enough, but in that shower-room which is full of holes and cracks for the wind to whistle through anyway—you can imagine. It’s like a nudist colony in Siberia--I wanna come home. I ain’t never gonna like this war. I wonder how many others share my feelings.

There’s a terrific air of expectancy all over around here now. Everyone feels it but no one knows what it is. The front has been pretty quiet for some time now and there seems to be a terrific turmoil going on inside Germany. I think something’ll pop soon now. Just a hunch—but.

That about does it. Not much news but I try to write a letter every night now. Tomorrow I’ll start answering all those back letters again.

Hope you are all well and say hello to the neighbors for me.


Best Love,
Bill

About Letter 141

Bill learns that his close friend, Horton Grant has died. He laments the irony that "young people who have never done any harm are dying by the thousands all over the world" while scoundrels like Baron Toyama, "the head of the notorious Black Dragon society peacefully pass away at the ripe old age of 93."

Letter 141- October 24, 1944

October 24, 1944
(England)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

I received your letters of the 12th. of Oct. and the 14th. I must say that I was shocked to hear of the death of Horton Grant. I believe I was closer to him than anyone else at Harvard. Honest to god, I can’t figure this damned world out at times. A nice kid like that has to die before he even starts to live while the very scum of the earth goes on and on. I noticed by the papers the other day that Baron Toyama, head of the notorious “Black Dragon” society, had peacefully passed away at the ripe old age of 93, I believe. There’s a man who has dedicated his entire life to unheard of violence and terror goes like that at that age. Why he didn’t even have to witness Japan’s coming anguish and destruction. Meanwhile, young people who have never done any harm are dying by the thousands all over the world, some of them like Horton even without the slightest reason. At times I find it difficult to retain my belief in the right.

To turn to happier thoughts—your letters are beginning to arrive pretty regularly now. It’s too good to be true, I know but they’re coming in about 10 days.

The weather was quite cold today but it didn’t rain. I like that better. I haven’t been doing anything spectacular lately as per usual. I went to a show last night—old picture. In the army nothing exciting happens ‘till on hits the fighting, and then it’s too damned exciting.

Well, the bottom of the page gives me a chance to sign off.

Best Love,
Bill

About Letter 140

Bill gets news from home. Family friend Bob Brewer is wounded in battle. His folks, who are both smokers cannot get cigarettes. Bill say that the soldiers in his company get 7-10 packs a week yet millions of packs are rotting on the docks for lack of transportation. He encloses a Bill Mauldin cartoon.

Letter 140- October 23, 1944

October 23, 1944
(England)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

Due to circumstances far beyond my control but much to my liking, the company doesn’t have to train today. Therefore this letter is being written in the early morning instead of in the evening as usual.

To start off with the weather as is customary—it stinks. An ice cold wind is blowing puffs of equally cold rain in about 8 directions at once. It’s really “mizzleble”. I’m sure glad I’m inside by a nice warm fire instead of battling with the elements.

I got your letter of the eleventh, Dad. You know more about Chester than I ever did. However, about that strawberry and cream complexion; that must have been before malnutrition set in. I did see those timbered houses and cathedral.

I was sorry to hear that Bob Brewer got wounded. The face and neck is a hellova place to get it too.

Boy I’m sure glad to see Hanson get it. That S.O.B. should. When I think of all the guys over here in far worse shape than that rat I really boil.

That’s a “hellova’ note that you can’t get cigarettes. We can get about 7 packs a week, sometimes 10. That’s not bad. Here’s the rub. According to Stars and Stripes there’s god knows how many millions of packs sitting on the docks over here rotting for lack of transportation. Ridiculous, isn’t it? I received the stamps. Thanks a lot.

About that allotment, it’s a $15.00 class “E” allotment. I took it out at Camp Reynolds. I don’t need much money over here—nothing to buy!

I’ll write again soon.

Best Love,
Bill

About Letter 139

It's a rainy, dark and gloomy day. Bill has spent it washing clothes and plans to go see a movie tonight to "keep from going nuts." He has spent a week looking for a Christmas card to send home with no success.

Letter 139

October 22, 1944
(England)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

I promised you I’d write a nice long letter tonight, but sure don’t feel like it now. I’ve been washing all day long and now I feel like a limp wet rag. Washing heavy stuff like fatigues in a pail is no soft job. I plan to go to the movies tonight not that there’s anything worth seeing but I gotta do sumpin’ to keep from going nuts. It hasn’t been much of a day; rainy, dark, gloomy. It’s not unusual but still I never feel like doing anything. To be truthful I ain’t never gonna like this country. I really feel sorry for the British. They’re stuck with it.

I’ve been trying to get some Christmas cards for about a week now but the P.X. seems to be out. I’ll probably be able to get some by tomorrow. Better close now. Not much of a letter but I’m in “sortofa” funk.

Best Love,
Bill

About Letter 138

Bill sends Mudder and Dad cartoon clippings of "Sad Sack and his erstwhile contemporary Hubert." He says that the men are jubilant over the news of the invasion of the Philippines. He asks about the Presidential campaign and promises to write again tomorrow.

Letter 138- October 21, 1944

October 21, 1944
(England)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

I don’t have a “hellova” lot of time to write tonight. I just got off of K.P. and it’s pretty late. It was an easy day, but I had to get up at 3:30 a.m. It was silly too. There was no reason in the world why I shouldn’t have slept until 5:00 anyway but you know the army “Hurry up and wait.” By the way, have you heard the “daffynition” of a chow line? It’s the man behind the man behind the man, etc., etc. I’ve got a couple cartoons I’m going to put a couple of cartoons. That last sentence shows what the E.T.O. has done to me. Another few months and they’ll send me home a babbling idiot with a section eight. Anyhow I think you’re acquainted with the “Sad Sack” but I don’t know if you know his erstwhile contemporary, “Hubert”.

I have to go over and see if I can buy some stationary before the P.X. closes that is if it hasn’t shut down already.

We’re all pretty jubalent? jubilunt? jubilent? (None of ‘em look right) over the news of the invasion of the Phillipines? Philippines? (Why can’t I learn to spell?) The papers over here with the exception of the ‘Stars and Stripes” hardly mention it, but we understand it’s really big and months ahead of schedule.

How’s the campaign coming? That does it. I’ll write again tomorrow.

Best Love,
Bill

About Letter 137

American G.I's are instructed "not to write anything malicious about our British allies", but Bill nevertheless offers his take on the British. The papers note that the U-boats are again active.

Letter 137- October 20, 1944

October 20, 1944
(England)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

It’s not yet noon but since I’m barracks orderly and I’ve finished my work I thought I’d might as well start anyway. After looking over all the letters I’ve received during the last few days I hardly know where to start at all. Well now let’s see. To go all the way back to Sept. 5 most of the questions you ask have been answered by the time I get the letter. About the V-mail, however, it comes about as fast as the fastest ordinary airmail, and the typing comes out fine. I don’t like it as well as regular airmail by far but according to the Stars and Stripes the approaching winter weather is going to cut down air travel across the Atlantic so that only V-mail will be sure of getting there.

I’m glad to know you got that diamond. It must be very pretty.

Next is dad’s letter of Sept. 9, #6. There’s only one thing that I’ve been intending to write about for a month now but it’s always slipped my mind. I got several letters from you referring to a letter you evidently sent me which Mrs. Ferber was sending this Mrs. Brotherhood. I always thought that I’d get the thing in a few days and then I’d know what’s what . I still haven’t got it, however. Now that my mail is catching up with me I might get it but so far “nuttin’”.

You said you’d like to know more about the people, their attitude toward us, and so forth. That’s hard to say. We’re not supposed to write anything malicious about our British allies but that’s more of at request than an order.

The people themselves seem quite different from Americans. That famous British reserve generally annoys Americans and that doesn’t help matters any. However, one must remember that most G.I.’s don’t make very hot ambassadors of good will. The only thing that annoys me about them is that insular attitude of “Hell we don’t need you.” Actually their attitude toward us is rather derisive. They take us for being rather stupid. It’s easy to laugh at this. Britishers who have ever been to America certainly don’t feel that way. British food is quite unimaginative; however wartime restrictions may have much to do with that—never enough salt.

With letter number 7 comes the first news about the swell Christmas packages you’re sending. Drool! I note by the papers that the U-boats are out again. Dammit, if they sink even one package I’ll murder the whole German navy personally.

I’m having one devil of a time finding out about these language courses. Everything’s mixed up over here and nobody knows anything. I’m going to classes at the Red Cross but that’s all so far.
Yes, Fred Roberts is here. I saw him for the 1st. time in several weeks last night. He’s still in the Engineers it seems.

Letter No. 9—“Chow”. I’ll finish this tonight or tomorrow.


Best Love,

Bill

About Letter 136

The walking tour of London continues. Bill sees Westminster Abby, Bond St. and the Houses of Parliament. Upon arriving at the Parliament the famous Big Ben thunders out 12 times signalling the noon hour. Bill promises to touch on a few details of the Abby in his next letter.

Letter 136- October 19, 1944

October 19, 1944
(England)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

Over the last two days I’ve received “FOURTEEN” letters from you. Imagine! They dated all the way from Sept. 6 to Oct. 7. No wonder I haven’t got much mail, damn their “ornary” hides anyway. Talk about material for letter writing. Whooee! I think I’ll finish up about going to London first.

I told you about where I went prior to leaving for the Houses of Parliament & the Abbey. I guess it’s unfortunate that I could see only the outside of many of these famous places. No. 10 Downing St. and so forth. From the outside most places look like absolutely “nottinks” at all. There’s so much that is shabby. The famous Bond St. where all the snazzy clothes come from is slightly reminiscent of East Los Angeles St. at home. In fact, all London reminded me of the East Side. You just can’t compare Europe to the United States. It’s just a dump by comparison. However, that doesn’t mean that there’s not a lot of interest here.

I arrived at the Houses of Parliament just as the clock in St. Stevens that houses the famous Big Ben started chiming. Then the bell itself thundered out 12 times—really sumpin’. I understand that the bell itself is slightly cracked and that’s what gives it that peculiar sound. We then walked out onto Westminster Bridge and looked up and down the Themes—muddy ditch. We could see just about all London from there. Next we walked around the place. The guide pointed out the ancient Westminster palace and the 19th. century buildings that surround it. Then we crossed over to a small square which lies in the “L” formed by the Parliament buildings and the Abbey. The dominating figure in the square is a large statue of Abraham Lincoln no less. We all had our picture taken there but later when I came to buy one the bloke was gone. It would have been nice with me, Lincoln and Big Ben in it.

Then we crossed over to the Abbey which again doesn’t look like much from the outside. However, once inside it’s beautiful. The first thing one becomes aware of is the high vaulted roof formed by a series of pointed arches. Its 102 ft. from floor to the highest part of the ceiling. It’s rather gloomy and when I mentioned it to the guide he said it was because there’s 700 years of London smoke and grime on the walls. Most people think the place is built of stone but actually its dirty marble. Just as one enters the door he sees the tomb of Britain’s unknown soldier set in the floor—the Congressional Medal of Honor hangs on the wall nearby. In walls and floor are buried everybody under the sun and there’s all kinds of statues and plaques to let you know it. More than once I found myself standing on top of Gladstone or William Pitt. Unfortunately much of the stuff around the alter is sandbagged and out of sight. That’s about all now. I’ll touch a few details in my next letter.

Best Love,
Bill

About Letter 135

Bill continues his narrative of sightseeing in London. He takes a free G.I. tour conducted by an old retired English major, "a typical Col. Blimp but without the walrus mustache." Among the sites he visits are Piccadilly Circus, Hyde Park, Buckingham Palace, Scotland Yard, St. James Palace and No. 10 Downing St.

Letter 135- October 18, 1944

October 18, 1944
(England)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

Today we had some more unusual weather—it rained; unusual for anyplace but England. I’m beginning to get that old water logged feeling.

I was telling you about my trip to London wasn’t I? Well I got up about 7:30 the next morning and went down to breakfast. Funny thing about European elevators or lifts as they call them over here. They take you up but you have to walk down. Anyhoo, they weren’t ready to serve so I decided to go out and buy a newspaper. It was Sunday so the streets were plenty dead at that time in the morning. I no more than got out the door, however, than I was mobbed by 3 bozos selling medals, ribbons and various other uniform decorations. I’m entitled to wear an E.T.O. ribbon and a good conduct ribbon but I wasn’t going to let those birds soak me 3 times what they were worth. Not all Yanks are dumbells and not all Yanks are millionaires. It was a nice day oddly enough—sunny with just a trace of haze so after I bought my paper I started to walk down Knightsbridge toward the center of town. I didn’t go far for fear of being lost, and anyway I didn’t have long until breakfast. As I went into the dining room I noticed that there was a tour of London to start about 9:45. We had potatoes and bacon, bread and butter, and some really good black coffee for breakfast. After that I sat in the lounge reading and listening to the American Armed Forces Network broadcast until time for the tour. Most clubs conduct “taxi tours”, but ours was a free tour à la “Shanks mare.” It doesn’t sound so good but it was swell. We had an old retired English major for a guide. He was a typical Col. Blimp but without the walrus moustache. You know, striped pants, gray spats, homburg hat, all the appearances of a conservative gentleman slightly run down at the heels.

Well, we started off—about 15 of us down Knightsbridge toward Piccadilly Circus. The old boy turned out to be quite a card and he turned out to be a damn good guide. He pointed out some of the clubs the old French Embassy and some of the homes of the nobility and royalty—From the outside they looked like nothing at all. Next we went through Hyde Park and to Wellington’s monument. Not much interesting there except the World War artillery monument which is an almost exact replica of a huge field piece in stone. The statues around it were all sandbagged. From there we passed the Palace Guarders. Although the fence is gone they still lock the gate every night at 12:00. British tradition. Phfft! We then walked around Buckingham Palace. It does look like Grand Central Station. The old boy explained the changing of the guard. They still change the guard—no fancy uniforms though (not Sunday). They’re not supposed to change it at all but they figured that they ought to put on some show for visiting G.I.’s so I imagine the guards who have to do the parading love us for it. They hate us anyway so what’s the difference? From there we went to Trafalgar Square. Everything Canadian in Britain, banks, etc. stands on one corner of that square. I noticed George Washington, a gift of Virginia on another corner. I’ll bet they appreciated that. Then we started down Whitehall where we saw the various gov’t. office, war office, Scotland Yard, etc.—No. 10 Downing St., the Monument to World War I’s unknown British soldier and down to the Houses of Parliament and the Abby. I also saw St. James Palace, which looked like Lincoln heights Vail, I believe. Those palaces are the least impressive things of all. I’ll show more details in my next letter. Gotta take a bath now.


Best Love,
Bill

About Letter 134

Bill receives six letters from home and writes a second letter on this date to acknowledge getting them. It's another "godawful night for cold, wind and rain and he has guard duty.

Letter 134- October 17, 1944-2

October 17, 1944 (2)
(England)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

This is the second of two letters I’ve written today. Since I finished the first one and dropped it in the mailbox I received six letters from you. I probably wouldn’t have written this one except for a small phrase at the end of one of them. It was “thanks for the letters last week.” Suddenly I realized what a heel I’ve been. I’ve started out more letters with-“I’ve been too busy to write.” Baloney! The real reason was I was just too goddamn lazy to make the time. Really I’m sorry. I want you to remind me of this note every time I let up on my writing and if I miss a single day you’ll know something really important will have happened.

I was sure glad to get that mail. One was dated September 6 and one was dated October 5. All in all they must cover all the letters I’ve had coming. From the questions and so forth that you asked, I should be able to write a dozen letters.

I’m on guard tonight and is it a godawful night for cold, wind and rain. The weather up here wasn’t half bad when I first arrived but now—Phooey! I’ll be on four hours straight and then I’ll be through.

Well, I’ve got quite some time before I’ve got to be at the guardhouse, but I don’t know what to do. Think I’ll get a little shuteye.

Best love,
Bill

P.S. - Mother, you get rid of that cold.
Bill